


Desperate Times Call for Stupid Ideas

by Morning66



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A bunch of minor relationships for like a second, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Jealousy, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Swearing, Teen Romance, Teenagers, This is actually about wolfstar I know it doesn’t seem like it lol, but did it work????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning66/pseuds/Morning66
Summary: “I’m going to die!” James screams, running in like a banshee is on his heels and propelling his face into the red comforter on his bed so the only thing Remus can see is his messy black hair.“Wait, really?” Peter asks, perking up a bit. “Can that be my prediction for Divination?”(Or, It’s September of fifth year and James is not-so-secretly in love, Sirius has a plan, Peter blows up a potion, Remus is confused, and Lily may or may not be a cradle-robber.)
Relationships: But like not really it’s fake don’t worry my friends, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Desperate Times Call for Stupid Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!!!
> 
> So, this was actually supposed to be just wolfstar but now it’s other stuff too, but don’t worry we’ll see plenty of Remus and Sirius!
> 
> Honestly I like to think this takes place in an AU where Peter isn’t bad and they all have nice long happy lives ahead of them.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, Discussions of sex and sexual themes, and I think that’s it but if anyone is reading and thinks of something else I should warn for, let me know!!
> 
> Have a nice day!! =D

It starts with Lily Evans.

This is not, in fact, surprising or out-of-the-ordinary, if you were to consult the Sacred and Most Illustrious Records of the Marauders, a thick bound book named by Sirius in first year and kept by Peter. According to the Records, fifty-six pranks and schemes have began with Lily Evans, including everything from the minuscule end of term shampoo prank of 1972 to the ever amazing cauldron heist of 1974. However, given that Peter was chosen as record keeper not for his handwriting abilities but due to his willingness and enthusiasm for the job and his odd ability to remember seemingly random bits of information, it is highly unlikely anyone would be able to read the nearly illegible book and take note of that number.

(If one did want to read the Sacred and Most Illustrious Records of the Marauders, they should consult Professor Minerva McGonagall, who’s knack for deciphering what appeared to be chicken scratch is beaten only by the Rosetta Stone.)

So it started with Lily Evans and it started on an otherwise uneventful Friday night in Gryffindor tower, which, Remus fingered, was just about the time things always started with them. The truth was, he had realized some time around second year, the biggest things began in the in between times, the days that stretched long and boring between tests and essays and the waxing of the Moon.

(In later months and years, Remus would learn of Really Big Enormous Things that happened on important days like full moons and birthdays and Halloween, but it’s September of fifth year and those events are still a long way off. )

And so it’s Friday night and Remus and Peter are in the dormitory, Remus lying on his bed, paging through a muggle book his mother sent him and Peter spread across the floor, working on a Divination essay that he’d somehow gotten an extension on when Sirius claimed that old Pete was on the brink of something big and he’d have the next great prophecy by Saturday morning sharp.

“How about this, Moony,” Peter says out of nowhere and Remus looks up. “They’ll be a great feast and it’ll be interrupted by something—nifflers maybe or what about bugs crawling out of the food?”

Remus blinks. “Pete,” he says, trying to sound rather gentle. “Y’know if you predict our prank, you’re basically incriminating us, right?”

Peter shrugs and half sits up. “It’s always us, anyway, isn’t it? They’ll probably know either way,” he sighs sadly. “This bloody divination is hard.”

Remus snorts. “That’s because it’s bollocks,” he says. “Just make up something vague. It’s not like they expect you to be Nostradamus.”

Peter tilts his head to the left, then the right, and Remus is reminded that not everyone knows about muggles who pretended to be wizards centuries ago. “Oh he’s—“

His explanation is cut short by the sound of the dormitory door being pushed open and then flung against the wall with reckless abandon. Remus knows that the only thing that that could mean is more paint off the wall and an addition to the dent the door knob is always making.

“I’m going to die!” James screams, running in like a banshee is on his heels and propelling his face into the red comforter on his bed so the only thing Remus can see is his mess of curly black hair.

Sirius appears about ten seconds later. “James is going to die,” he informs them, deadpan, and then slams the door shut even harder than James opened it.

“Wait, really?” Peter asks, perking up a bit. “Can that be my prediction for Divination?”

This is the point Remus realizes his night is about to go down the tubes.

“James, er,” Remus pauses, wondering if he wants to finish his question. “What’s going on?”

James slowly raises his head. He blinks, looking somber as a funeral on Christmas. “I’m calling a Marauders’ Meeting of the Minds,” he announces and sets off for the toilet.

“Meeting of the mindless, maybe,” Remus murmurs. It holds no real bite. Remus always said that and he never really meant it, it was just another part of the tradition.

In the bathroom, James takes his customary seat on the toilet, presiding over his kingdom from a porcelain thrown. Remus and Sirius settle on the edge of the tub and Peter sits cross legged on the floor, Divination textbook still spread across his lap.

“I forgot, why do we do this in the loo?” Peter asks, resting his elbows on his textbook.

“Because tradition, of course! We’ve got to live up to the pranks of old and how could we do that without breathing in the stench of toilet water and James’ cologne?” Sirius says, then pauses and adds as an afterthought, “which, on reflection, smell remarkably alike.”

“My cologne does not smell like–“

“Prongs, my dear maraudering brother, I cannot lie to you any longer. It does.”

“Does it?” James asks, alarmed, turning on Remus and Peter. 

Sirius elbows Remus hard to the rib cage, a very physical indication of what he wants him to answer. Remus purses his lips, trying to decide which friend to please.

“I dunno, James,” Peter says, sniffing. “It might. A little bit, I mean.”

James glares at him and does the one thing James Potter can always be counted on to do when confronted with the confounding idea that something he is doing might not be perfect—he changes the subject. “Enough of the idle chit chat, I have news!”

“He does,” Sirius agrees, sounding a little too gleeful for someone who’s best friend might just be about to die. “Hot off the press, hot as Minnie’s—!”

“Well, what is it, then?” Remus asks, a little impatient because he was at a good point in his book just five minutes ago before his best friends came in screaming about death and meetings and minds that none of them have and, if that wasn’t enough, toilet water.

James nods severely, twisting his head around so he meets each of their eyes in turn. “Evans likes Peter,” he announces and Remus nearly has a cow, right there, right then. 

It seems that Remus isn’t the only one who has a cow, or rather an amphibian, because Peter spits out the chocolate frog he’d been eating faster than you can say expelliarmus. It’s half chewed, one leg missing, but still manages to hop away towards the dormitory, even if it does favor its right side.

“Me?” Peter asks. “Like me, me? Like Peter, me?”

Sirius snorts from beside Remus, and Remus elbows him in the ribs, disguised revenge for the earlier elbow he took to his ribs. 

“What other Peter is there?” James asks.

Remus thinks. “There’s a Hufflepuff first year named Peter Higgins. He got lost second week of term and I had to show him to him to his dormitory.”

He’d been a nice lad, Remus thinks, but rather dull.

James is starting to turn red. “Evans does not fancy a First Year!” James says, getting very worked up. “Evans isn’t some, some...”

“Cradle-robber?” Sirius suggests.

“Right, Padfoot!” James agrees. “A girl like Evans can’t be a cradle-robber! She’s too, too...”

“Annoying?” Sirius supplies, enjoying this a bit too much. “Rule-following? Pig-nosed?”

“Right, right, exactly, exactly,” James says. By now he’s slouching noticeably, staring down at the cracked tile floor that probably has five million species of bacteria on it, but who cares because they’re wizards. “Right.”

Remus doesn’t have much money, but he’d bet his favorite jumper and his book collection neither of Sirius’ suggestions were what James was going for.

“Er, I don’t mean to doubt that Lily might like Peter, but how exactly did you two come upon this intel?” Remus asks.

“Sirius heard it from Dorcas,” James says, face now in his hands.

“Dorcas?” Peter asks. “Since when do you talk to Dorcas?”

Peter is still rather put out about Dorcas after his efforts to take her to Hogmeade last spring failed when she told him he was just too short for a girl like her because how could their future children ever expect to have a chance at breaking a meter? This had resulted in a week-long effort to transfigure Peter to be taller, the results of which were only a large patch of pink hair growing on his nose and a very displeased Madame Pomfrey.

“Since I snogged her this afternoon,” Sirius says and Remus watches him say it and watches his mouth for that sneaky, smirky, smiley thing it does when he knows he’s about to wreak havoc on the world.

“You snogged? Like snogged her, snogged her?” Peter asks, looking as if Sirius has possibly killed his puppy.

Sirius shrugs, flips his hair in the way he always does when he’s trying to look effortlessly cool and rich. “In the broom closet off the third floor until Filch came looking for his sodding mop,” he says, as if poor Peter needed to hear more.

Peter looks about as bad off as James now. “But I fancied her,” he says.

Remus thinks he sees a hint of remorse in Sirius, just for a second. Then, it’s gone, because while Sirius has always had a flair for the dramatic, he’s also always had an iron grip on his emotions, the truest, Blackest trait. “Got good taste, Pete. God, the things that bird can do with her mouth—”

Remus reaches out, lays a hand on Peter’s shoulder in comfort. “Hey, it’s okay Peter—“

“Course it’s okay. Evans fucking fancies you, Pete,” James says, a little to loud with a little too much emotion. “Evans!”

There’s a pause and Remus can feel the unspoken secret lurking in the air like a sodden blanket.

“I mean, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Remus asks. “It’s not like any of the rest of us fancy her, right?”

And there it is, the laundry put out to dry, because they know James likes her, have known since last fucking fall when she became literally all he could talk about (well, in addition to pranks, and how much he hated Snape’s guts, the latter of which may or may not be related), but the great buffoon wouldn’t even admit it.

Sirius sniggers, and Remus sends him yet another elbow, because no, that is not helpful.

James nods and they wait, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he says, “Well, no, none of us like her, but we’ve still got to figure this out.”

“Do we really?” Sirius asks, baiting.

“Of course! I mean it’s probably the greatest mystery to ever mystery. I mean, Peter?”

“Hey!”

James pats Peter’s shoulder consoling. “You know what I mean, mate.”

Great, Remus thinks, just bloody great. This’ll be a long weekend.

*****  
“Okay, how about if we brew amortentia? And then we’ll see what she smells and if it’s like rat dung or chocolate frogs—“

“Hey, that’s not fair, James—“

“You actually think I’m going to help you brew a potion outside of class? You’re off your rocker, Prongs.”

“You helped with the stuff for Moony—“

“Yeah, for Moony, not Evans you besotted idiot.”

*****  
“What if we slipped veritessum into her—?”

“You realize some of us don’t actually want to get arrested, don’t you?”

“Sod off, Lupin! Sirius does, he was just saying the other day he wanted to be a grave-robber or something dashing like that—“

“Grave-robbers aren’t dashing, they’re literally the opposite of dashing, James.”

“Aw, Moony, you don’t think I’d make a dashing grave-robber? I’m dying, I’m literally dying!”

“If you lot died as much as you say you do, you’d have to all be cats to still be alive.”

“Huh?”

*****  
“What about—?”

“What about I just ask her out and see what she says?”

“You can’t do that! That won’t work!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s Evans and it won’t and, God, Sirius if you don’t stop laughing, I’ll brain you!”

*****  
On Monday, the entire situation gets fantastically, unimaginably worse. 

It happens in potions, midway through the afternoon. The morning had been relatively normal, with the exception of James’ stare now moving back and forth between Lily and Peter instead of being glued to Lily. In fact, the morning had been so normal that it had lulled Remus into a false sense of security that maybe, just maybe, all this was over.

Instead, let it be known to history, that it was just beginning.

It started with Sirius not showing up for Potions. Where he was, Remus didn’t know. They’d all had a free period the last hour and Remus had spent his in the library, looking over his Defense notes. He’d assumed James and Sirius were off basking in the still warm weather somewhere, the arseholes they were who never seemed to need to study.

“Where’s Sirius?” Remus asks, as the last stragglers trickle into class.

James shrugs, not looking up from his Lily watching. “Dunno. I was with Evans.”

“You were with Lily?”

James jerks away, looks up at Remus. “Well, not with, per se...”

“We were following her,” Peter supplies from the bench over from them. He and Sirius had been partners since Slughorn forbade Sirius and James from being partners at the beginning of the year.

“Don’t say it like that, Pete, you make us sound perverts.”

Remus snorts. “I think it’s more that you make yourselves look like perverts, James.”

Peter sputters a laugh and James coughs loudly.

“Mr. Black isn’t here, I see.” Slughorn says, sneaking up beside them and Remus hopes to God that he didn’t just hear what he said. “You boys know where he is?”

James grunts, Peter opens his mouth and nothing comes out. Remus shrugs, “Stomachache,” he says and hopes he sounds sincere and honest and Prefect-y.

Slughorn nods. “Well, Mr. Pettigrew, I suppose you can work with your friends here for the class if Mr. Black’s ill.”

Peter nods eagerly, already dragging his stool over towards their table, glad for the help. It’s not that Peter’s bad at Potions, or really any of their subjects save Divination (which, Remus has already established is bullocks and doesn’t count) it’s more that he gets rather nervous and then accidentally drops in frog’s eye when he was supposed to add goat hair and then the potion starts emitting a foul purple smoke and then one of them ends up in the hospital wing with a date with Pomfrey.

“Professor Slughorn, sir? Dorcas isn’t here.” It’s Lily, having approached them somewhere in the commotion of Peter dragging his stool over, the legs screeching loudly on the floor.

Remus would like to think his first thought is oh fuck Peter doesn’t have a partner and oh fuck Lily needs a partner oh God my life is about to go down the drain.

Instead, his first thought is that if Sirius isn’t here and if Dorcas isn’t here and if last Friday they snogged in a broom closet then—well, he’s in Arithmancy, he can add two and two and get four.

“Ah, Miss Evans, you’re in luck! Mr. Pettigrew here is in need of a partner!”

James hands clench into fists on the desk. Peter backs away slightly with a high pitched squeak. “Oh, no, sir, I mean...” he looks nervously towards James.

“Nonsense, my boy! I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful team!” Slughorn says, trudging off for the front of the room. 

Peter stands immobile for another few seconds. “C’mon, Pettigrew,” Lily says, “it’s not like that potion’s about to brew itself.”

“Wish it would,” Peter murmurs. 

With a last sorry glance at Remus and James, Peter follows Lily across the room to her station. 

****

“Merlin’s maroon panties, Moony, she’s touching his hand!”

Remus glances up from his Potion’s textbook halfway through reading step eight (add two drops of putrified toad liver). He stares across the classroom at Lily and Peter, the former of which has grabbed the latter’s hand to stop him from adding something to their cauldron.

“Yes, James, it does appear that their hands were in contact for a moment there,” he says, doing his best not to sound patronizing, just gentle and comforting. He doesn’t do that good a job, but James has never been particularly perceptive.

James breathes out a sigh. “It’s just inappropriate,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, there’s like thirty of us.”

There really aren’t thirty of them, seeing as it’s only Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and nothing inappropriate’s going on. In fact, it would have probably been inappropriate if Lily hadn’t stopped Peter from messing up their potion, being his partner and all. Remus does not point this out. 

Instead, he nods and says, “They’re basically shagging.”

James turns to him fast. “You don’t think they are, do you?”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Merlin, James, there’s three steps between your beds. How could they have shagged and you not known it?”

James shrugs. “Dunno, girls’ dormitory?”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Pete what? Charmed his way in? We all know it turns into a slide. And anyway, can you imagine a world where Pete loses his before you and Black?”

James nods, because he can’t disagree with that. He grabs the putrified toad liver without looking at the book because he’s James Potter and can do everything effortlessly, including brewing the Deflating Draught. The potion makes a gurgle when it hits it and James lets out another loud sigh.

“Think Sirius is with Dorcas?” Remus asks, mainly because he doesn’t want to go into another round of the unacknowledged James Potter pity parade. 

“Dunno. I mean, I would be. I mean, mate, have you seen her—“ James gestures towards his chest, making a curving motion that’s obviously supposed to simulate cleavage. “She’s fit, alright.”

Remus shrugs. He can’t argue that Dorcas is rather, er, well-endowed, even if he doesn’t make a habit of paying attention to girls’ assets.

“Think he fancies her?”

“Fancies a quickie, maybe,” James says with a laugh. “You know Pads. Grab the fox tooth extract, will you?”

Remus grabs it and hands into James, who sprinkles it in the cauldron with a flick of his wrist. 

“Pete’s not too torn up, do you think? He’s fancied her since forever.”

James shakes his head. “Don’t be such a girl, Moony. Pete’s fine and anyway Evans—“

James’ sentence is interrupted by a shrill hiss that seems to shoot through the room and straight into Remus’ brain. There’s a pause and a deafening boom. Remus turns, all whip fast instinct, to the origin.

It is, unsurprisingly, Pete and Lily’s cauldron that has exploded splattering hot pink glop everywhere. Remus can’t even begin to see either’s faces or eyes because they’re covered in the sizzling goo, that most certainly shouldn’t be hot pink.

“Merlin’s Beard,” Slughorn says moving faster than Remus has ever seen him before. “Stand back will you?”

*****

“—and I, for one, can’t believe Pomfrey’s going to let them both spend the night in the hospital wing. Like, c’mon that’s just asking for—“

Before James can finish the sentence, Remus starts loudly choking on his brussel sprouts, which causes the other boy to pause mid-diatribe.

“Y’okay there, mate?”

Remus gulps down some pumpkin juice, basking in the silence of James not talking about their newest development for one moment. “I’m good.”

James nods, reaches across the table to give Remus’ forearm a pat. “Can’t have both our prefects going down. Blasted Slytherins might destroy the castle.”

Seeing as the castle had been standing for about a thousand years, this seems entirely unlikely. Remus doesn’t say this because he doesn’t think James will appreciate it.

“What was I saying?”

“Er. Something about history?”

“No, I don’t think so,” James frowns. “Oh, right! I was saying that Pomfrey’s basically asking for baby Peter’s having them both stay in the hospital wing.”

Remus has to hold back from spitting out his mashed potatoes. “C’mon, James, that’s not going to happen.”

James shrugs. “You never know. My dad says sometimes things just happen,” he grins. “That’s why I always carry a —“

“But it’s not happening between Peter and Lily, James.”

James shrugs. “Better not. I don’t want to be a teenage uncle.”

“That is a very scary thought.”

“Innit?” James frowns. “You don’t think Pete did this on purpose, do you?”

“He’s Peter, James.”

“So? Maybe he likes her.”

“He likes Dorcas.”

“Maybe now he likes Lily. I mean, she likes him.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He might.”

“D’you want him to like Lily?”

“No!” James’ outburst causes several students to stare at them. “Er. Well. I mean, I suppose if—”

“No,” Remus says tiredly. “Don’t suppose. Pete’s our mate. He’s not going to steal Lily from you.”

There’s a pause and Remus waits for James to yell that Lily is not, in fact, his. (Which is true, but not, in fact, the point.) James, however, looks vaguely out of it, in an eyes glazed kind of way.

Finally, he sighs. “Well, Sirius is with Dorcas and Pete likes Dorcas, so.”

Well, that’s was more relationship analysis than Remus expected from James.

“Yes, but Sirius is Sirius.”

“True.”

“Speaking of, where is Sirius?”

James shrugs, then looks around. Now, he looks vaguely worried. “With Dorcas maybe? He has been gone awhile. He goes off sometimes, though.”

That is true.

“Well, after dinner I’m going to check on Peter,” Remus says.

“If you don’t think he’s too busy.”

“He’s in the hospital wing. How could he be too busy?”

James furrows his eyebrows. “Well—”

“James, for God’s sake, he is in the bloody hospital wing. No one bloody shags in the hospital wing.”

“Bet someone has.”

“I literally live there and no one does!”

“You’re there two nights a month. That leaves on average twenty-eight nights you’re not there. People might shag every one of those nights! Multiple people might shag everyone of those nights! There might be whole orgies every one of those nights!”

A sixth year Gryffindor girl from two seats over glares at James in disgust and scootches away. 

“I’m not saying I’m involved,” James tosses out, annoyed.

The girl shakes her head.

“Well, I’m going to get going,” Remus says. “You coming?”

James shakes his head. “Don’t wanna see—” he stops when Remus shoots him a look. “Er. I mean, I better go find Sirius. Tell Pete I hope he feels better.”

*****

“Two weeks too soon, dear,” Madame Pomfrey says when she sees Remus in the doorway.

It’s kind, Madame Pomfrey has never been anything but kind to him, not since she saw him after that first moon, shaking and bleeding like he’d walked through a tornado, but Remus still flinches inwardly.

“Was wondering if I could see Peter?” Remus asks.

Madame Pomfrey purses her lips, but nods. She’s sweet on Remus, Sirius likes to say, same way McGonnagal’s sweet on him. “For a little bit. It’s late.”

She directs him towards a bed in the back, one Remus himself has occupied many times. The curtain’s pulled back and Peter’s up, paging through his Charms textbook with a frown on his face.

He must hear Remus coming because he perks up, turning with a smile and Remus nearly takes a step back because Pete’s face is red.

Not flushed red, not embarrassed by a girl red, not even post-quidditch red, no it’s red red, blood red and you can see long sinewy veins and tissue.

“It’s bad, innit?” Peter asks when he sees the look on Remus’ face.

Remus shrugs. It does look pretty bad, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell Peter that.

“How’re you feeling, Pete?”

He takes a seat on a chair that’s been dragged up near the bed. Peter sits up a bit more and puts on a brave smile for Remus. “Not too bad actually. Stings a bit.”

Remus nods. He’d be surprised if it didn’t sting. “Brought you a piece of fudge from dinner,” he says, producing the desert from his trousers pocket, wrapped in a napkin. 

Peter grins, and stuffs it in his mouth promptly. “‘s my favorite,” he says.

Remus shrugs. “Least I can do, yeah? You lot are always helping me.”

At the mention of the others, Peter’s smile fades a bit. “Where are they?”

“Er—“ Remus tries to think of an answer that isn’t ‘James is probably pouting in the dorm because you’re spending the night with the girl he likes and Sirius is spending the night probably shagging the girl you like.’

It’s quite hard.

“Is James mad about the exploding potion thing?”

“Just a bit, er, upset,” Remus says, not mentioning his dinner long diatribe about Peter and Lily and possible orgies that occur twenty eight nights a month in the hospital wing. “He’ll blow over soon, though, y’know him.”

Peter nods. “I didn’t mean to do it, Remus,” he implores, “I really didn’t. Just got nervous and all.”

“Yeah, I know, Pete. James knows, too, he’s just...blinded.”

That brings a laugh out of Peter. “Blinded by love!” he whispers, waving his fingers around.

Remus laughs, then looks around worriedly. “Where is Lily?”

“In the other room. Pomfrey said something about not wanting us to get up to anything.” 

“Merlin, if James heard that, he’d probably have a heart attack.”

“I know! I mean, I don’t get why he doesn’t just admit he fancies her. I mean, everyone knows I like Dorcas.”

And look how that went, Remus thinks, but doesn’t say. It’s not like Sirius would ever go after Lily Evans, not if James wanted her. Peter’s another story, though. Always has been.

“I think it’s just...” Remus trails off and runs a hand through his hair, trying to think. “Maybe one of those things, y’know? The longer he doesn’t admit it, the more of a thing it becomes, yeah?”

Remus is not sure if that explanation makes any sense whatsoever, but maybe it does because Peter nods. “It’s bloody complicated.”

“You can say that again,” Remus says. He pulls his legs up to his chest, shoes resting on the edge of the seat.

Sometimes he thinks he’s rather lucky that he doesn’t have to worry about birds and romance. Or, he guesses he could worry about those sorts of things, but it wouldn’t matter because it’s not like he’s about to get a girlfriend and all, being a werewolf. Thus, he doesn’t even need to think about girls or, more accurately, think about why he doesn’t think about girls.

It’s rather freeing.

“Hey, d’you think you could help me with this Charms essay, Remus?”

“What d’you got so far?”

Peter blanches. “Well, that’s what I needed your help with. Er, starting.”

*****

“Mooooony! Moooony!”

Remus opens his eyes and blinks. Something large and heavy is sitting on his legs.

“You awake, Remus?”

The large thing is now leaning towards him, grey eyes sparkling in the (waning) moonlight.

“Now I am,” Remus murmurs. “Time’s it?”

“Half one.”

Remus remembers coming back from the hospital wing, working on homework for a bit, then going on his prefect rounds. By the time he finished, the dorm had been dark and quiet save James’ snoring and Remus had figured his two friends were sleeping.

Apparently, Sirius was not.

“Why’re you—?”

“I can’t sleep in my bed.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Why, Moony, because there’s a dead frog in it. How’s anyone supposed to sleep in a dead frog bed?”

“A dead frog?”

“Well, a dead chocolate frog.”

Ah. That makes more sense.

“Sounds like you shouldn’t have been eating in bed, which is notably not my problem.”

“It wasn’t mine,” Sirius says, making his eyes innocently wide, “It’s Pete’s two legged one from the other day. And now it’s smashed on my sheets, Remus.”

“Maybe you should have checked your bed—”

“Do you check your bed regularly for chocolate frogs?”

And what can Remus say to that? 

"I don't, for what it's worth."

"See?" Sirius grins and leans forward, getting in Remus' space. His ankles are still resting in a mess half on Remus' legs. "'S not my fault." 

Remus rolls his eyes and shakes his legs, trying to get Sirius off. Instead, Sirius loses his balance and falls forward with an oof so that's he's lying flush against Remus.

"Not even a date first? Damn, Lupin, you get straight to buisness."

"Oh, fuck off, Black."

Sirius laughs, loudly, brightly and starts squirming against Remus, wriggling like a snake.

"Geroff, will you?" Remus says pushing at Sirius lightly.

The truth is, Remus likes moments like this. As a kid, he'd never thought anyone would want to be anywhere near him, much less touch him, werewolf and all. Still, it's not like he can really say that to Sirius because that's really not the kind of thing one tells their mate.

Sirius finally rolls over, settling in next to Remus with a "Budge over, will you?"

"Where were you all day?" Remus asks.

Sirius grins wickedly. "Guess?"

"You can't have been with Dorcas all day."

"Can't I have?"

"Nobody snogs for that long."

"Yeah? Know that from experience?"

Remus gives Sirius a light shove. "Sod off, Black."

"I'll have you know I'm a very good kisser. Dorcas was practically begging for me to stay forever."

"In your mind, you're a very good kisser, at any rate," Remus says. "So what? You were with her 'til one?"

"Well, not exactly."

"And the truth comes out.”

"Fuck off. Well, see, the thing was, ol' Minnie had caught me and Dorcas on Friday, right? So then she gave us detention scrubbing the third floor hallway with que tips."

"Didn't mention that part."

"It would have killed the mood, don't you think? Me, bragging about my ever thrilling conquests, and then, boom by the way, my lost love Minnie came in and was like oh I want a piece of you too and then—"

"Why do I doubt it happened like that?"

"Because you're a hardened cynic who has yet to ever snog anyone and can't realize the true romantic tragedy of this love triangle."

"I think I just puked in my mouth, Sirius."

"In despair at not having a romance for the ages like—"

“I’m not sure I’d call clandestine meetings in a sodding broom closet a romance for the ages, Sirius.”

“I’m reinventing romance—”

"I don't even understand," Remus says, cutting off Sirius, "why you're even with Dorcas. Y'know Pete likes her."

The sudden change of topic—to a serious topic in particular—catches Sirius off guard. For all his name would imply, Sirius isn’t a particularly serious person. He’s more the kind of person who likes to make every possibly serious topic into a huge joke for the longest possible amount of time until everything explodes in a fantastic catastrophe.

Then, he’ll laugh at whatever catastrophic event just occurred.

There’s a pause and Remus thinks for a second that maybe Sirius is actually reflecting on why he chose Dorcas for his bird of the week.

Finally, Sirius props himself up on one arm. “Have you seen her tits, mate?”

Or not.

Remus can’t believe it’s the second time in less than twenty four hours that someone has brought this up. Are they really so great? “Er. Well—“

“Come off it. ‘S not like I’m marrying her,” Sirius says and Remus doesn’t point out that just two minutes ago Sirius had been claiming their relationship was a “romance for the ages.” “And Pete can have her when I’m done. Or not. She’s honestly kind of a bitch.”

“But you want to snog her?”

“A very hot bitch,” Sirius says, yawning.

“Ah.”

“Anyway, I’ve got a plan.”

Well, doesn’t that sound vaguely worrying. A Sirius with a plan is a very dangerous Sirius indeed. “What d’you mean?”

Sirius grins his typical fierce grin that looks even fiercer in the dark. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Moony.”

“Can’t help it,” Remus grunts.

Turning towards Remus, Sirius reaches up and musses the other boy’s hair, the look on his face softening, becoming fond in a way you rarely see out of Sirius Black. 

“You’ll see,” Sirius says, then yawns loudly. “I’m going to sleep.”

He closes his eyes, hand still up by Remus’ head, fingers brushing against the cartilage of Remus’ ear. Remus sighs and doesn’t move, staring up into the darkness of his canopy, feeling his ear turn pink in the dark.

Only Sirius.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Hope you liked it and feedback is always appreciated!! =D


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